Tragedienne
by PrometheusUntied
Summary: On a quiet night, two restless souls remove their masks for just one night, revealing doubts and vulnerabilities neither had expected to find in the other and providing a balm for each other’s wounds before they don their masks once more.
1. Tragedienne

Tragedienne/Tragedian  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy X or any of its characters. They all belong to Squaresoft.  
  
A/N: I'm not exactly sure how I should go about writing up a warning/disclaimer for this piece, as it seems to defy all possible categorizations. I think the primary warning I should give is that near the end, the story does take on something of a lime flavor, though even that might be misleading, as I'm not sure you could technically call it a lime (though it certainly is not a lemon). As could the pairing be misleading , which I would prefer not to reveal at this time, though it could easily be discovered after the first several paragraphs (and for those like me who dislike yaoi, fear not, because there isn't any). The reason for this is that I would like the story to stand for itself. I don't want readers that aren't fans of this particular pairing to be instantly turned off, nor do I want to get the hopes up for those that are, especially given the earlier warning about a sort-of/maybe-not lime, as I think of it as more of an interaction between two characters rather than a "pairing". Truth be told, I'm not a big fan of this "pairing" myself, though when this idea came to me I was instantly intrigued, and I hope you will find something that perhaps you hadn't thought about before while reading this.  
  
Plus, for those who may find the pairing a bit creepy, or perhaps don't believe that these characters would act in such a manner (or dress the way I have them in this story), all I can say is that I hope you hold off judgment until after you've given it a chance, as everything in the story is there for a reason (both symbolically and for sheer entertainment), and I tend to believe that given the circumstances, it may be possible that the characters would act in such a manner. I leave that up to you to decide, and I would love to hear whatever constructive criticism you may have.  
  
Chapter 2 is actually the essay I wrote immediately following finishing this piece, in an effort to justify to myself what I had written. It's a sometimes humorous and somewhat narcissistic little essay, but full of insight into the creation of this story and a little glimpse into the inner workings of a madman (that would be me, by the way). So if you're interested, take a peek, but understand that once you get inside my head, I am not responsible for the trauma it may cause. You have been warned. ;P  
  
Anyway, I apologize if I came off sounding pretentious, as that was totally not my intention. And now, on with the story...  
  
*****  
  
Four hours. That was how long she had been tossing and turning in her bed. That was the amount of time that sleep had managed to elude her, her thoughts unbidden, assaulting her in droves, some of them assuaging her pain and losses, others enflaming her desires, but the majority preying on her vulnerabilities and fears, all ensuring that she would never find the peaceful sanctuary of slumber and dreams. Not this night in any case.  
  
Nights were always the worst. Nights were when she was alone, when she was most vulnerable. Nights were when she was most susceptible to fall prey to her greatest fears and doubts. If there was ever a time when she might be able to convince herself to quit her pilgrimage, it was in the silence of night, when she could hear her inner voice more clearly; her inner voice that selfishly urged her to live.  
  
Finally exasperated of trying unsuccessfully to quell the voice with her insistence that she was doing the right thing, that her sacrifice would save the lives of thousands, she finally decided to just ignore it, to wrap her mind around something else, anything else, no matter how superficial; anything that would help her to relax and allow her to finally get some sleep. She flipped over onto her side, exaggerating the motion a bit in an attempt to demonstrate the severity of her frustration to no one in particular. That had been when she realized just how long she had been tossing and turning in a sleepless fit.  
  
Yuna knew it had been four hours already. Not because she had glanced at the clock by her bedside, which she hadn't, but simply because she had heard the unmistakable creaking of the door across the hall opening, followed by light footsteps that grew just a tad bit louder before they finally stopped just outside her closed door; only to then be replaced by the even softer footfalls of what could be none other than Kimahri's feline feet, the organic padding conforming naturally to the floor as they moved away from her, a built in trait that allowed Ronsos to be superb hunters and stalkers.  
  
A second later, Yuna could hear the sound of the door squeaking closed once more, followed by silence - the very silence that had been her increasingly bothersome companion for the last few hours; and would continue to be so if she did not figure out a way of tricking herself into falling asleep. She was almost certainly positive that she would not hear another noise from her guardian standing watch outside her door, as Yuna was quite certain that it could be none other than Sir Auron taking the second and final watch.  
  
Yuna smiled in satisfaction at her own cleverness and deductive reasoning in determining that it was indeed the legendary guardian standing at attention outside her door. For starters, the sound of his boots across the floor had been extremely quiet, and she had only heard them because of the stillness in the air. Despite having only traveled with her father's former guardian for a little over a week on the Mi'ihen Highroad, she had discovered that the stoic swordsman moved quite stealthily for such a large and powerful man, at least when he wished to. But besides that, she also knew that it was him because she hadn't heard a single voice, or nary a whisper or low grunt from Kimahri. Had it been Tidus or Wakka, or even Lulu, replacing Kimahri, someone would most certainly have spoken. But both Sir Auron and the Ronso were the same in that respect. They rarely spoke; simply allowing their body language to convey meaning someone with less subtlety would no doubt verbalize to get the message across.  
  
Having now completed listing all the reasons for why she suspected Sir Auron was outside her door, that thread of thoughts had become a dead issue, no longer requiring her full attention, allowing her other thoughts to rise up to take their place once again. Thoughts she did not want to face, concerns that crept up on her every night, striking dread in her heart, forcing her to question her decisions and her resolve. Thoughts that always ended on the same sour note: that when her pilgrimage finally came to an end, it would mean the end of her as well. Her life for Sin's; her sacrifice to give the people of Spira peace. One life given willingly to spare the lives of thousands. Her life, just as her father had given his ten years before.  
  
Sir Auron. He had been her father's best friend, his faithful and courageous guardian. He had fought alongside her father, along with Tidus' father, Sir Jecht, protecting him until the very end. He had rightfully earned the status of legend, and in one fell swoop became the largest living icon in Spira.  
  
Yuna had developed something of a crush on her father's guardian when she was in her early teens. In fact, most girls around her age had the same crush. But she had felt that hers was more real, far more substantial than anyone else's, for she had known the man, she had met the legend back when he was nothing more than an outcast and disgraced warrior monk. A very handsome and stalwart disgraced warrior monk, she was quick to add.  
  
As Yuna had grown older, her feelings for the legendary man subsided as reality loomed larger on her horizon. Not only that, but it seemed that no one knew the whereabouts of the man since the time of Sin's defeat. For ten long years he had vanished without a trace, leaving all to wonder whether he was even still amongst the living.  
  
But now he had once again reappeared, and offering to be her guardian, of all people. She had been quite shocked by his request to become her guardian, as well as a little awed simply to be in his presence, her childhood crush suddenly rejuvenated and stronger than ever simply at the sight of the man.  
  
It seemed he still lived, though he had made no attempt to explain his whereabouts for the past ten years. But one thing that was apparent was that the years had not been kind to him. His once beautiful face had become roughened, scarred and stubbly, highlighted by the streaks of white in his dark hair, the stress lines that creased his brow telling that he had suffered enough stress in the last ten years to last two lifetimes. In fact, that was the only information his face revealed: that he had suffered greatly. It was the only thing he couldn't hide behind the emotional barrier he had constructed around himself.  
  
The changes, however, had not made him any less attractive. If anything, they had actually made him far more attractive. His disheveled appearance, the streaks of white in his rich, raven-tinted hair, the wicked scar that had replaced what had once been his right eye, and his quiet, aloof nature all served to lend him a roguish quality, a dark and mysterious aura that made him stand out in a crowd, a force to be reckoned with, and all at once made her heart swoon. Add in those bulging muscles and his great strength and skill with a sword, and Yuna could not deny that it made her weak in the knees just watching the warrior in action.  
  
He was undeniably oozing with sex appeal, though probably not consciously, as she seriously doubted that Sir Auron was the type that cared much about his appearance. She had to admit, "Sexy" was probably the best word to describe him now, though Yuna often tried to stray from such impure thoughts. Not because she was ashamed of them or believed they were sinful, but simply because allowing her thoughts to go down that path allowed her to toy with notions that were all but impossible, to allow her to daydream of things that could never be. Things that probably should never be.  
  
Again she was reminded of her fate. It seemed that no matter what, she could not escape that train of thought. She flopped back onto her back, kicking the sheets that had suddenly become suffocating, trapping in the oppressive heat, allying itself with the constricting silence to further irritate her.  
  
After a brief struggle, Yuna finally managed to shuck the sheet from her legs, sending it flying to the floor at the end of her bed where it could do no further damage to her, the action exposing her body to the elements, revealing her scandalous nightgown, a risqué ensemble made of a silver-hued sheer fabric that made it all but transparent. She could see no reason why she couldn't indulge herself a little. She was about to sacrifice herself for Spira, nobly cutting her life short. Was it so wrong to allow herself to feel like the sexual woman she had become every once in a while? It wasn't as if she paraded herself around in public wearing skimpy or racy clothing, only indulging herself in the privacy of her own bedroom.  
  
It was one of the secrets she kept to herself. Just as she kept her fear for her future secret, in public pretending to be determined and immovable in her decision to free Spira of Sin. It wasn't as if that claim were a lie, because she was determined to see it through, but that didn't make her any less scared, any less doubtful.  
  
That was what continued to keep her awake, and would undoubtedly keep her awake for the remainder of the night.  
  
Well, she figured, if both she and the silent guardian in the hall were both going to spend the remainder of the night awake, they might as well spend it together, giving each other some company to help pass the time. After all, Sir Auron was not in the hall keeping watch over the whole party, simply keeping watch over her. That was a guardian's duty. Wouldn't it be easier to keep watch over her where he could actually see her?  
  
Deciding that was a curiously intriguing idea, she glided off the bed and stole across the room to the door. Opening it with as much stealth as she could, she poked her head through the doorframe to find her night watchman standing at attention to the left side of her door, fully armored, his katana balanced before him, point downward resting on the floor, his gloved right hand gripping the handle so it wouldn't fall. His other arm was slung up within his jacket, as it always was; a show of respect for her fallen father.  
  
He didn't turn to face her, and most certainly had not seen her in his periphery, for it was his scar-sealed eye that was closest to her. Yet he knew she was there. "Trouble sleeping, Lady Yuna?" It was more of a statement than a question, his voice a deep vibrato, lacking the normal emotional inflections that normal people tended to use.  
  
Surprisingly, she found herself a little nervous in his presence, a bit unsure of herself, her voice stammering a bit as a result. "Y-Yes."  
  
"Been happening a lot lately," he noted.  
  
That also hadn't been directly a question. But Yuna nonetheless felt compelled to answer, in a way flattered that he had taken note of that the last couple of nights, though it wasn't a surprising revelation, as Sir Auron had generously taken a watch every single night since he had joined her pilgrimage, allowing the others to catch up on lost sleep. She wondered if it was simply in his nature - whether it was out of generosity or over-protectiveness - or if he simply did not require much sleep. "Yes, I suppose so. Would you like to come in? I could use the company."  
  
He stole a quick glance at her, then quickly averted his good eye from her, whatever expression his mouth may have made hidden, as always, behind the large grey collar he wore around his neck. "Lady Yuna, you are indecent." He was straight-forward and matter-of-factly, not a tinge of embarrassment or shock in his tone, as one would expect from such a statement.  
  
She glanced down at her outfit; at first puzzled by his accusation... then found herself incredibly embarrassed at her blunder. Somehow, in her eagerness for company, she had managed to forget exactly what it was she was wearing. She flushed red, but quickly regained her composure, straightening herself and schooling her features as she had practiced many times for her appearances in public, injecting as much confidence as she could when she finally answered. "I can live with it if you can."  
  
It was a foolish thing to have said, inappropriate and an inadvertently cruel thing for her to do in the presence of a man, but in her school-girl crush nervousness at being around the living legend, she had not wanted to come off looking ridiculous and scatter-brained in his presence.  
  
Seeming to understand that her need for company far outweighed her embarrassment, he consented nonetheless, following her into the room, the door closing quietly behind him. "At least wear my coat," he insisted. A gentleman to the end, he was, not only for his chivalrous offer, but because she could see over the shades balanced on the tip of his nose that his eye remained focused only on her face, never once wandering down to catch a glimpse of what her near-scandalous attire revealed.  
  
Still she refused, not wanting him to go to the trouble of removing his belt and the numerous articles of armor protection that served to remind people that he was a warrior through and through. "No, thank you. And there will be no further debate on this matter"  
  
He nodded in consent, showing her respect. "As the Lady wishes." Sir Auron glanced downward for a second, though not at her, instead focusing on the large jug that always hung at his side as he detached it from his belt. Popping the cap off, he held it out to her, his eye once again meeting hers. "Perhaps a sip of this will help settle your nerves; help you sleep."  
  
She eyed the jug suspiciously at first, unsure exactly what manner of soporific the container held within. A form of alcohol most probably, but exactly how potent the stuff would be was what had her concerned. Regardless, she did not want to seem rude, so she accepted his offer, at first sniffing the substance - something with a grain-like aroma - Before finally taking a delicate swig. The liquid was strong, but with a certain sweet taste to it, warming her trachea as it made its way down to her stomach.  
  
She wiped a few remaining drops of the soothing liquid from her mouth with the back of her hand in an almost unladylike manner while passing the jug back to its rightful owner. "Thank you." Then she realized she was forgetting her manners. Meanwhile, here he had been completely courteous to her. She felt a little inconsiderate for it, but quickly tried to make amends. "Please have a seat, Sir Auron."  
  
He nodded graciously in reply, taking a swig of his concoction himself before seating himself on the floor, his legs curling up into a perfect lotus position, the jug placed in front of him. His massive sword laid flat to his right side, the handle within reach of that hand, the sharp edge facing away from him, the tapering end pointing away from her towards the door several feet behind him.  
  
Yuna herself sat on the floor a few feet in front of him, her legs sealed together, folded up underneath her to her right side so that the majority of her weight was on her left hip and her calves, her left arm providing occasional support so that she did not tip over and further embarrass herself.  
  
The large protector spoke first, cutting straight to the heart of the matter, as was his nature. "What troubles you?"  
  
Yuna contemplated his query for a few seconds before answering. There were many things troubling her, so many that it was hard to know where to begin. But when she thought about it, somehow all of her doubts seemed to revolve around one common subject. "My father."  
  
Oddly, her father's loyal guardian seemed to understand exactly what she meant with those two cryptic words, as if he had read her mind. Though Yuna guessed it was simply that he knew how to read her expression or her body language. Or perhaps it was simply because those who spoke in riddles understood their own kind. Either way, he hit the nail squarely on the head with his response. "Whether you should share the same fate." Again, he did not phrase it in question format.  
  
"Yes." She confirmed his statement immediately, but was hesitant to elaborate further, perhaps because she did not want to seem weak in front of a legend, a man renowned for his success. She did not want to admit that she often questioned whether she had made the correct choice, whether sacrificing herself to bring about another ten years free of Sin was actually worth cutting her young life short. Whether she was allowed to have such doubts; or whether other summoners had ever stopped to question their decision. She wondered whether her father had ever wavered in his resolve to do the right thing at so high a cost, if he had ever been just as scared as she was in those moments when no one was around.  
  
Apparently she hadn't needed to vocalize her concerns anyway, as again Sir Auron seemed to read her like an open book. "Your father was also scared sometimes." His words were comforting, soothing in their near-monotone inflection, filled with a trace amount of concern and kindness that only Sir Auron could pull off without coming across as heartless.  
  
But she felt at once discomforted by his ability to read her mind, something most others were not so skilled at, a feeling of vulnerability she was not accustomed to sweeping over her, troubling her. Perhaps it was because it was a subject seldom discussed, something that was difficult for most people to accept, herself included, most preferring to put off acknowledging the simple fact that for a pilgrimage to succeed, the summoner must die; simple in fact, not so simple in execution. "Is it that obvious?"  
  
His answer was quick in coming, but slow in the manner with which he verbalized it, his words deliberate and carefully chosen. "No. You hide it well, as a summoner should. Your projected unwavering determination, no matter how false, gives the people hope. But I have seen that feeling before."  
  
But even if these feelings were not all that uncommon, that still did not change the fact that she did not want to have them, that she almost felt weak because of them, especially when she knew that they could not stop her from completing her pilgrimage. Much as she didn't want to vent this frustration to anyone else, that perhaps it was wiser not to, somehow she had begun to feel that if anyone could understand what she was feeling, it was this man who had successfully journeyed on a pilgrimage before, who had been there when her father had died. "But I feel so ashamed to be having these thoughts, these doubts." She let her head drop in resignation.  
  
"There is no shame in it." His words were soft-spoken, perhaps the most caring she had ever heard them. In some ways, he almost sounded sad, regretful. "You would not be human if you were not scared."  
  
But these were words coming from a man who never seemed to fear anything, never phased by the unexpected. She wondered if it were possible that he feared nothing; or simply that he was so much better at covering it up than anyone else. It certainly didn't seem to be the latter, but he had to be scared sometimes. Didn't he? Curiosity got the better of her, and Yuna suddenly felt compelled to find out, looking up at his serene features once more. "What about you? You never seem scared?"  
  
Auron chuckled in amusement at her question, though she wasn't sure at first whether it was because he wasn't sure whether to take her seriously, or because he was amused at the prospect that she might think him unfeeling. In her indecision, Yuna gave him a nervous little smile, hoping it would serve as an appropriate reaction no matter which of the two scenarios was the truth.  
  
Apparently he had taken it more as a joke, his response suggesting sarcasm, though his tone was cold and hard, a little distant. "Perhaps I am no longer human."  
  
Not quite sure of the how or the why, Yuna was able to discern something from his response, something hidden perhaps, such as a long-buried pain. Without pausing to think about it, she shot back her response, her tone gentle but matter-of-factly, despite the speed with which she tossed it out there. "Or perhaps you are just better at hiding it."  
  
She had been hoping to glean some sort of acknowledgement from him, some sort of emotional response, but his expression remained unreadable, his features betraying nothing, neither confirming nor denying her analysis, and Yuna instantly found herself vexed by the paradoxical nature of the subject: that even if she were correct, she would never know for sure because it meant that he was indeed good at hiding the truth. If it were false, then he would have no reason to react in the first place.  
  
But either way, it meant that he certainly had a different state of mind than she did, based more on logic than emotion, and she hoped to use that difference to her advantage, to perhaps help ease her own troubled conscience, pulling the conversation back on the track it had started on before being side-tracked by her curiosity. "What would you do in my place?"  
  
But her question simply elicited the standard guardian response from him. "It is not my place to choose for you. I am simply here to support you in whatever decision you make."  
  
Yuna gnashed her teeth together in an attempt to hold down her growing irritation at constantly hearing that same non-committal response from all guardians, secretly wondering whether that phrase was printed in a manual for guardians somewhere listed under the heading "Officially Sanctioned Answers To All Your Summoner's Questions".  
  
But she had no intention of letting him off so easily. She wanted to get his opinion on the matter, one way or the other, to force him out of his shell. Maybe then she could understand what made him tick. At best, maybe she could use his response to quell her own uneasiness. "Ten years ago, would you have been willing to sacrifice yourself for Spira?"  
  
The man seemed to take her seriously, his eye shifting upwards to focus on something over her head, something in the distance of his past, his detached expression almost seeming to imply that he was trying to reconnect with the person he had been in the past, the person he could no longer make a claim to today. He thought long and hard before he finally answered. "Back then... I cannot say. The choice had never been mine to make, as Braska had already made the decision. From there, there was no choice but to become his guardian."  
  
His eye snapped back into the present, focusing once again on her, and all at once she almost felt sorry for the man, though she did not completely understand why. "But knowing what you do, would you be willing to do it now?"  
  
"No." His response was swift and merciless, puncturing the air with its suddenness, his volume raised a bit higher than was his standard. Yuna only just barely caught the look of betrayal, of pain and regret that flashed in his eye so briefly that had she blinked or looked down at that precise moment, she would have missed it.  
  
She was not surprised at his response, though she was caught off guard by its swiftness and the resolute conviction that solitary word held for him. She was immediately curious for his reasons, intrigued and at the same time frightened by the emotion she had just seen from him while he gave his answer. "Why not?"  
  
His features softened a bit, perhaps to quell her fears, suspecting that she had seen what he may have unconsciously betrayed, or perhaps because it was simply his way of thinking. This time, his answer was long in coming, as if he were trying to tackle the best approach, or find the best answer that would satisfy her curiosity without revealing too much to her. She knew he would not impart all the information he had, that he held many secrets close to his vest that would be saved for a day when he felt she was ready to hear them. Frustrating as his cagey nature might be, she had to respect him for it, for always sorting and analyzing what information was best for the present, and what was best left unknown until a later date.  
  
Finally he answered, his voice softer, filled with respect that he clearly aimed at her, though simultaneously serving to take some away from him. "Because I am not as noble as you or Braska."  
  
She detected the slightest hint of self-loathing in his response, something she probably would not have noticed before tonight, but she found herself better able to read him the more she spoke with him. Though there was always the possibility that her observations were incorrect, that she was simply reading too much into everything, or even perhaps not enough. But she felt the need to restore some of his self-worth, to show that he was just as noble as she, perhaps more. "Yet you would willingly die for my father, wouldn't you?"  
  
His responses were quick, no-brainer answers. "I would."  
  
"And me?" Part of her knew the truth, but another part of her simply wanted to hear him speak the words, to confirm her beliefs.  
  
"In a heartbeat."  
  
Though it was exactly what she had expected to hear, she wasn't prepared for how much of an effect it had on her, how touched she was by his protective, honorable nature. Surely he recognized how noble it was to be willing to die to protect someone else. "Isn't that noble? You'd protect your summoner at the cost of your own life if need be. You are a hero because of that very fact, a renowned legend throughout Spira."  
  
His response stopped her in her tracks, caused her breath to catch in her throat, the cold hard conviction of his words sending a shiver down her spine, the menace in his voice pointed directly at himself. "Legendary is just another word for 'failure'."  
  
All at once she felt a great sorrow for him, for what must have happened to him that he would not speak of. Once more she wondered what it was that had changed him, what had occurred that had caused the death of his determined younger self, the one who believed whole-heartedly in the teachings of Yevon; the one who was now but a distant memory to him.  
  
"I don't understand." She didn't. She couldn't understand what had been so traumatic for him to believe that he was a failure when the rest of the world would tell him differently. In fact, most considered him the greatest guardian that ever lived. Did he truly hate himself that much, or did he simply wish deep in his heart that he could have prevented her father's death, that he could have taken his summoner's place so that he wouldn't be forced to be the sole survivor? What could have been so bad that it had left him in this state?  
  
It wasn't an answer she was going to get anytime soon. Again, that was a secret that was to be his alone for the time being, until he felt it ready to be revealed to her or the others. "You are not ready to understand."  
  
There it was. There was the shield he put up; his way of protecting her from that which she was not prepared to learn. But she did understand one thing. She understood that his reluctance to give his pain a name involved her father's death, and his helplessness against its inevitability. And here he was, about to face that again with her. "But if you feel that way, why did you wish to become my guardian?"  
  
The honorable, determined quality returned to his voice, the one that whispered to her that once she had his trust and his loyalty, he would be committed to her for all eternity. That his word was his bond, his honor above all else, his loyalty the most valuable treasure he had to give. "I have promises to keep."  
  
Yuna could feel her eyes go soft, for the first time looking on her newest guardian with more than simply respect. She looked upon him with adoration, and unconditional affection, finally seeing that his nobility was greater than hers could ever be, that it had no bounds. "To my father?"  
  
He nodded, and in that moment she felt closer to him than she ever had; to know that, like Kimahri, he was willing to honor the final wish of a dying man, no matter what it cost him, no matter how much it may destroy him inside. He would allow himself to experience the same pain as before with her, because that was the promise he had made to her father, the promise he now made to her.  
  
"Among others," he quickly amended, the more lighthearted quality to his voice now returning, perhaps prompted by her unhidden love for his moral character.  
  
Yuna determined that the other he was referring to could only have been Sir Jecht, another fallen comrade, or so she assumed given his absence, that Sir Auron had made a promise to. That was a promise that she had already come to know. "Tidus?"  
  
He simply nodded, his eye closing slowly, as if in remembrance of his lost friend.  
  
Tidus. Yuna had to admit to herself that she was terribly attracted to that boy. He had the classic sort of good looks: flawless complexion, pretty face, lovely, mid-length blonde hair. And those sparkling blue eyes, eyes the color of the sea. She could lose herself in those eyes, often feared she might if she did not maintain control over her internal desires. He was different in almost every way from Sir Auron, having more of a lean, muscular build, relying greatly on his agility, speed, and coordination to see him through, whereas Sir Auron was large and hulking in comparison, stronger and more disciplined. Being a step slower than the more athletic Tidus, he put his skill and experience to good use, compensating for his own limitations.  
  
Personality-wise, they were also very different, almost opposites. Tidus was much more exuberant, energetic and positive, almost always smiling or laughing, always quick to start up a conversation or ask a question, adorably naïve at times, but never embarrassed by it. Unlike Sir Auron: noble and wise, silent unless necessary, yet frustratingly cryptic when he did speak, his preference to remain in the background, guiding them all with a subtle hand. He had become very much like Lulu, cynical and jaded from his experiences. Perhaps the only thing the two men did share was their mysteriousness, though even the very definition of their respective mysteries was different; Tidus simply for his claim to have originated in a city that had ceased to exist a thousand years ago, Sir Auron's defined more by his brooding and secretive nature, the puzzle of what happened to him ten years ago to have changed him so greatly.  
  
It was a strange sensation for her. Two men, completely different from one another, and yet she felt similar feelings for the both of them. She figured the reason for it was because they were so different. They were representative of the things she had felt missing when her pilgrimage had begun. Lulu and Wakka were her family, her older siblings that would keep an eye on her, while Kimahri was her protector, her loyal guardian who never questioned and always protected. They were her support system, the ones who kept her grounded in reality.  
  
But Tidus and Sir Auron were something entirely different. Auron was the wisdom, strength, and experience that she needed if she were to succeed, the backbone of the group. But Tidus... Tidus was the heart. He was the ray of light, the energy and the enthusiasm that such a bleak and tragic journey required, the hope that no obstacle was too great, no force too powerful that they couldn't push through it. She needed both of them, knew she probably would not have gotten very far without either of them. That was the reason why she was drawn to the both of them.  
  
Yet there was more to it than that, a connection they shared. One beyond father/son or mentor/apprentice; something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Something that told her that for all their differences, there was one thing they had in common. A mystical aura that surrounded them, that made them different from anyone else she had ever met in her short life.  
  
"To watch over him?" She finally asked. Yuna had actually been quite taken aback to learn that Tidus knew Sir Auron, curious when she learned that Tidus referred to the man simply by his first name, without the honorific that his legendary stature demanded. To find that Sir Auron had actually become a foster father to Tidus was a complete shock, even more puzzling in that it meant Sir Auron knew where this thriving Zanarkand was that Tidus claimed to be from. But it was also funny in that she could not imagine the emotionally distant and disciplined warrior raising a rambunctious child like Tidus. It defied imagination.  
  
The elder guardian nodded sagely. "My promise to Jecht." He paused for a second, and she imagined he must have been smiling given the slight shifting of his cheek muscles, but it was impossible to know for sure from her angle due to the gray collar that completely eclipsed his mouth and jaw- line. "One I often wish I hadn't made," he finally finished. Then he laughed for the second time that night.  
  
This time around, however, not distracted by her own discomfort, Yuna found that Sir Auron had a wonderful laugh. It was a deep chuckle, low and guttural, muffled by his collar so that those not paying close attention might miss it completely. It was the laugh of a man full of wisdom, one who had seen much in his life; a laugh that sounded more like one of self- amusement rather than from something external.  
  
She had to admit it was infectious, enough to instantly put her at ease, though she imagined in different circumstances it could also be the source of great frustration for those left in the dark on his joke, or those being the object of it, both great likelihoods considering this was the enigmatic and cryptic Sir Auron. But at the moment she was neither of those things, so she allowed herself to smile genuinely. "I think you did a wonderful job bringing him up." He had to have, else she would not feel the way about Tidus that she did.  
  
Auron seemed to accept her compliment for what it was, his russet-colored eye seeming to sparkle for a brief moment. "I did what I could, though I was cursed from the outset."  
  
"Cursed?" She found she had absolutely no idea where he was going with this, whether he was being serious or joking. Again she cursed the fact that his collar hid the majority of his face.  
  
His intonation was serious, but it was obvious from his words that he was joking. "The boy belongs to the same gene pool as Jecht. Do the math." Once more she was sure that he smiled in amusement at his own joke, but again the collar blocked it.  
  
She smiled knowingly. Yuna had met Sir Jecht once, just before her father had embarked upon his pilgrimage ten years ago. She remembered the type of person he was: arrogant, foul-mouthed, a jovial, carefree attitude towards life, a live-for-the-moment, damn-the-consequences personality that she remembered often brought him into direct conflict with the ever-serious and responsible Sir Auron of old; the two constantly bickering like children until her father would finally break it up. She could see where Tidus had inherited many of his dubious personality quirks, but more telling was where the boy's occasional lack of self-worth and hatred for his father factored into the equation.  
  
But still, given those qualities belonging to Jecht, as well as Tidus' seemingly endless supply of energy, she could certainly sympathize with Sir Auron's plight in having to raise the child, especially given that Sir Auron stumbled into fatherhood by accident, not by choice. She allowed herself a slight laugh. "Is that where those stress lines came from?"  
  
Again he went silent for a moment, his brow creasing, pondering something, and she feared she might have said something wrong. He finally replied, delicately and distantly. "Mostly." The crease disappeared, and she thought she saw the corner of his left cheek tug upwards in what she imagined was a half-smile, one intended to set her mind at ease.  
  
In her frustration at not being able to know for sure what his expression was, that was when she finally understood. That was why he wore the collar around his face, why those sunglasses never left his face. They were his wall; his barrier that served to keep the world at a distance, disallowing anyone from reading his expression or discovering his emotions, his inner pain and turmoil kept hidden behind the literal shield he surrounded himself with. His armor was the one thing that had constantly prevented her from making that closer connection with him that she felt she should have already made; the one reason why she couldn't quite understand him even when he was speaking frankly.  
  
She removed all traces of amusement from her features, gave him a hard stare. Then finally she asked, in a straight-forward and sincere manner. "Why do you wear that collar?"  
  
He gazed back just as fiercely, sincerity in his tone. "Does it bother you?"  
  
She allowed herself to be completely honest, hoping that it would finally help open him up. "Only because you choose to hide behind it."  
  
She could tell he took her seriously, could see the inner machinations of his mind reflected in his eye as he considered her unspoken request; contemplated whether he was willing to let her in. She could tell it was probably the hardest decision he had ever had to make in his life, and one he feared he could not take back if it turned out he made the wrong one.  
  
But slowly he began to undo the buckle that held the collar to his chest armor, pulling it off over his head, slowly and with great hesitation. Then he began to remove the glove from his right hand, followed by the bracer that protected his forearm, and unhooked the buckles that tightened his sleeve around his wrist. Finally he removed his armor chest plate, carefully placing it on the floor to his left along with the other pieces of his armor, the disassembled pieces of his shield.  
  
For the first time she saw just how vulnerable it left him, how exposed he had become, saw him take a swig from his jug to help settle his obvious uneasiness. She found she very much liked this Sir Auron better: raw, unguarded, vulnerable - human.  
  
But it was because of his willingness to do this for her that she caught a glimpse of what he felt for her. He had accepted her and been willing to show her what he had never shown anyone else, what he would probably never reveal to anyone else beyond this night, possibly even to her.  
  
She was flattered by his gesture, and at once found that connection; a connection that previously he had only shared with her father and Sir Jecht.  
  
Sir Jecht. That was another mystery whose answer she was not privy to, one that not even Tidus seemed to know. What had become Sir Jecht's fate? If anyone knew for sure, it was Sir Auron, and though she was hesitant to bring up a potentially sore subject, she also rationalized that sooner or later the subject was bound to come up. Why not get it out of the way? "What happened to Sir Jecht; that you had to take care of Tidus for him?"  
  
The pain was painted clearly on Sir Auron's face, and she knew that she had just stumbled upon an open wound. "He is gone." The voice was strained, raw with emotion, and Yuna found it quite unreal to realize it was coming from Sir Auron.  
  
She instantly regretted bringing up the subject, but in a way she knew this was good for him, good for the both of them. "Is he dead?"  
  
He shook his head ever so slightly. "Just gone. It is difficult to explain."  
  
"I see." She didn't really. She couldn't understand how someone could be gone if they weren't dead, or why Sir Jecht had gone somewhere where he was forced to leave his only son in the care of a stranger. But even though Sir Auron had opened up to her, she knew there were still secrets he would keep, answers he would be unwilling to give. He may have become more vulnerable, but he certainly wasn't any weaker or any less astute. But she understood that wherever Sir Jecht had gone, he wasn't coming back. He was lost, and that fact was all too clear from her Guardian's expression. "You miss them, don't you... My father and Sir Jecht?"  
  
He nodded soberly. "They were my closest friends, my family. They were my world..." His voice softened near the end, saddened, drifting off, leaving the rest unspoken.  
  
But she understood. She finally started to see why his former self had died. Her heart went out to him for his losses. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad."  
  
His voice regained its former strength. "Don't be. You did not remind me of anything that I hadn't already been thinking."  
  
Yuna smiled sadly. "I miss him too. My father, that is." She wanted to say she missed Sir Jecht, but she hadn't really known him that well. But she knew Sir Auron would understand, would not think her insensitive in that regard.  
  
The warrior monk smiled at her, his lips curled in an affectionate and sympathetic manner, his eye clearly conveying his sorrow for her loss. "I know."  
  
When she was younger, Yuna had always wondered what it was that had compelled a man to risk leaving his only daughter an orphan, why someone would be willing to sacrifice himself when he had family to take care of back home. She didn't question it anymore, understanding that her father had simply expanded his responsibilities to include the safety of all of Spira, not just his daughter's safety. He couldn't just sit idly by while Sin was on the rampage, tearing apart other families, not while he could do something about it. She had felt the same way he did, only her choice had always been easier, for she had no family she would be leaving behind. But she was often left wondering whether he would have wanted that fate for her. Almost unconsciously, she voiced her concerns, no longer looking directly at Sir Auron, but gazing beyond him, just as he had earlier, lost in her own thoughts. "I often wonder if he'd understand, if he'd approve of what I was doing; following in his footsteps."  
  
Sir Auron seemed lost in his own memories as well, giving her something of a distracted answer, but one she found comforting nonetheless. "Braska's strongest quality was his ability to understand others. Without him, we never would have gotten as far as we did. If not for him, Jecht and I would never have been able to understand each other. I'm positive your father would have supported you in any decision you made."  
  
That she had already known about her father. She knew that he would have willingly supported her in all her endeavors, but that didn't always mean he wouldn't be left with a lingering disappointment that she was throwing away her life, the life that he had sacrificed himself to protect ten years ago. Would he be happy with her decision? "But would he be proud of me?"  
  
Auron seemed to gaze on her fondly, admiringly, speaking almost as if it were her father speaking through him. "Without a doubt. You've grown into a capable and strong-willed woman, caring and kind, noble and courageous. I don't think anyone could be more proud."  
  
Yuna felt her heart rend at the compliment, her eyes misting over as she was overcome by such strong feelings of perfect happiness. Not only because it felt wonderful to learn from the one person who knew her father better than anyone that her father was proud of her, but also to know that her father hadn't been the only one. Sir Auron was proud of her as well. Wrapped up in her glee, she laughed, a chuckle quite different from his, but with the same notion of self-amusement that his usually contained.  
  
This time it was his turn to be confused, and Yuna felt elated to have turned the tables on him. "What's so funny?"  
  
Yuna gave him what she imagined to be a devious smile. "You."  
  
Sir Auron cocked an amused eyebrow, curiosity obviously getting the better of him. Yet he didn't speak, allowing the gesture to ask the question for him.  
  
Yuna allowed her sly smile to be supplanted by one of affection. "When I invited you in to talk, I had not expected you would be so easy to talk to. I suppose I had expected more of the cryptic responses you seem to so enjoy giving the others, or perhaps even several awkward silences."  
  
Auron smiled knowingly in return, once again reclaiming the upper-hand, his voice sarcastic and teasing. "If that is what you prefer..."  
  
Yuna was quick to cut him off, throwing her arms up in mock surrender. "No, no. It's nice." But her smile faded, giving way to slight puzzlement as the truth made itself known. "I'm thankful for that, it's just..." She stopped for a second, trying to piece together something, perhaps trying to pin down an elusive thought or idea, something about Sir Auron that perhaps she had always sensed from him, but that she had never taken note of until now. "I guess that with the others around, you're..." She held off finishing her statement until she was sure of her answer.  
  
She stalked towards him slowly, like a predator on all fours as he remained perfectly still, studying her curiously. Finally straightening her back into an upright position, balanced on her knees, stopping within a foot of his face, she took a closer look, scrutinizing him, scanning to see if she could find that which she thought might be hidden there. She caught her reflection in his glasses as she moved, captivated suddenly by it.  
  
As she stared at her own image reflected in his sunglasses, that was when it hit her. That was when it all started to come together. Everything they had discussed this night suddenly formed a clear picture in her mind. Finally she understood.  
  
They were the same.  
  
"A deceiver..." she finally finished. The silent guardian gave no answer, stopping dead in his tracks, stone-still as he waited for her to explain her accusation.  
  
She did. "...Hiding the truth behind a mask. Not simply because it's easier that way, but because it's expected of you." She paused, sympathy unmistakably lining her voice. "It keeps you alone, makes you different from everyone else... because they couldn't understand." She paused again, retreating within herself, her last words a barely audible whisper. "Keeps you alone... like me."  
  
Still he did not respond. But he had heard, had understood, his good eye flinching in recognition.  
  
She continued, her gaze pointed downward, at nothing in particular, for she was actually looking inside herself. "It took me a while to finally understand it, but when Sin was defeated, I realized that it could only mean that my father was dead. And it suddenly dawned on me how alone I was in the world. I felt like I was the only one who was sad at a time when everyone was rejoicing." Her mind's eye focused on the bridge, the railing in Bevelle she had been leaning against those ten years ago when she had finally come to understand that her father was dead, the open wound inside her that had never closed, that had set her on the path she now walked.  
  
Sir Auron tried to explain it away, to sympathize with her pain, a verbal sleight of hand so he wouldn't have to admit the truth to himself, to keep himself at a distance so he didn't have to get involved. "Losing loved ones is always difficult for those so young."  
  
But he was involved. "Or even for those not so young," she knowingly pointed out. She gazed back up at him, a mutual recognition shared between them in that instant. "Because I wasn't alone... was I?"  
  
Because there inside her mind's eye, it wasn't the little girl she had once been standing on that bridge overlooking the city as it rejoiced, so very sad and alone. It was Sir Auron.  
  
As her observations of him struck home, his look became distant, haunted, deliberately pulling away from her, perhaps back into tragic memories of his past; attempting to hide his conflict, his loneliness behind the shades he wore. But he didn't need to hide it, not from her. Not from one who was the same when the masks came off.  
  
She leaned in close to his face, delicately removing his sunglasses from the bridge of his nose, her eyes shifting rapidly between the nasty-looking scar and his one good eye, intent on the vulnerability they betrayed, on the fragility of one she had previously believed indestructible. He seemed so lost, so in need of love, a love that was deeper than simple respect or idol worship. He wanted a love that meant something more, a love that let him know he was needed, that he was valued, not for his social status or his unmatched skills with a blade, but for who he was inside.  
  
She tenderly reached out and touched his scar, causing him to flinch at first before he submitted to her affectionate ministrations. A scar: the permanent reminder of a wound that had healed, but only for a physical wound. There were no scars for the open wounds that still bled inside of him, that hid behind the wall he had fortified himself with, just as there were none for her internal wounds. Wounds inflicted the day High Summoner Braska - her father, his best friend - had died; wounds that would never heal until this pilgrimage was successfully completed. It was the same wound that would forever separate them from the rest of the world, but served to unite the two of them, if they allowed it to.  
  
Sincerely, her voice a low whisper, as if to imply that what she was about to say was a secret for his ears alone, more so than anything else they had spoken of this night, she said, "You don't need to feel alone anymore."  
  
But instead of increasing the proximity between their visages like she ought to have done, she surprised even herself by closing the gap between them and planting her lips squarely on his.  
  
Horrified by the irrevocable subconscious desire she had just submitted to, the action she had just taken that could not be explained away so easily, her eyes shot open, wider than she thought possible, her mouth still glued to his unyielding lips. She desperately tried to read the expression in his sole remaining eye, blurry given the closeness, her own eyes sweeping back and forth frantically hoping to capture whatever feelings that russet eye might yield.  
  
But beyond the initial shock that Auron quickly covered up as was in his habitual nature, it yielded nothing for what seemed an eternity, until finally it simply closed, slowly and deliberately, and Yuna soon found that his lips gave up their initial resistance and willingly submitted to her surprise attack.  
  
Her own eyes quickly shut as his tongue parted her lips, probing her mouth, engaging in a sensual dance with her own tongue as the passion exploded within her, enveloping her, flooding her with a sensation of feeling truly and utterly alive, drowning her in its ethereal wondrousness.  
  
She snaked her arms around his neck, her right hand still clinging delicately to his sunglasses. Her body quickly pressed itself against his, the warmth radiating and intensifying the sensations that overcame her, and soon she found herself straddling his lap. She felt his legs generously uncoil themselves beneath her, stretching out a bit more so that her calves were no longer splayed at such an awkward angle.  
  
She felt his hands find her knees, and then shuddered with anticipation as they slowly glided their way up along the outer portion of her thighs, stealing beneath the hem of her nightgown, his strong callused hands surprisingly gentle and tender on her sensitive skin. The man's hands finally found their perch on her hips, pulling her body tightly to his, remaining there for several long moments, content to allow his mouth to be the sole explorer for the time being as his kisses traveled their way down to the nape of her neck, his soft nibbling sending pulsing sensations all throughout her body.  
  
Yuna leaned her head back, her eyes still tightly shut, unable to open even if she willed them to, the sheer bliss she was experiencing controlling her every move, her every action.  
  
Auron's mouth found its way back to hers, and his tongue quickly resumed its exploration of her mouth. His hands once again began their trek up her body, meticulously and tantalizingly making their way from her hips up to the sensitive spot just below her armpits, his thumbs lightly brushing the sides of her breasts as they traveled past, releasing a wave of immense pleasure that coursed up her spine, eliciting a soft moan from her.  
  
But it obviously hadn't been soft enough, for its very sound seemed to instantly sober Auron, his hands rapidly retreating from beneath her nightgown to rest upon her shoulders, prying her tingling mouth and her enflamed body from him in the span of a heartbeat, cruelly freezing Yuna's longings and desires in their tracks, forcing her to go cold turkey from her desperate craving for fleshly contact.  
  
After what felt to Yuna like an eternity, but in reality must have been but a few seconds, Yuna managed - with great difficulty - to sober up herself, fighting off her desires enough to risk opening her eyes to face what could be the greatest mistake of her life; or more precisely, Sir Auron's greatest mistake. She didn't want it to be a mistake, didn't want the guardian to feel like he had taken advantage of her, didn't want him to feel that he had betrayed her father, his closest friend. Because he hadn't; not in her eyes.  
  
But the look in his eye, the one emotion it allowed to remain unguarded, told her that he thought he had. He shot to his feet, picking her light frame up and depositing her gently back to her feet, his sunglasses impossibly perched atop his nose once again, all in one swift motion, his face clearly conveying his deepest apologies as he began to retreat towards the door.  
  
As he turned his back to her in preparation to vacate the room, Yuna vowed then and there that she was not going to let him go so easily. That she wasn't going to let him run away from what had happened between them. She wasn't going to let him blame himself or allow him to find one more reason to hate himself, not for something that she had instigated, something that she had wanted. Something that subconsciously he had wanted as well, and in his unguarded moment, a desire he had given in to.  
  
She knew that he would never allow it to happen again, he being far too honorable a sort. But it didn't have to go that far. It hadn't really been the primal, carnal act that she had desired; it had simply been the contact that she craved. She wanted the connection they had shared to be something more tangible, something beyond mere words.  
  
But she knew there was no way she could verbalize such a feeling, not in a way that would persuade him in the rapidly-dwindling timeframe she had before he made his way through that door. So she did the only thing she thought he would understand. She grabbed the right sleeve of his red coat just before he completed his turning motion, and held her ground with all her strength to keep him from completing his motion and pulling her along in his wake, his physical strength far greater than hers.  
  
He must have gotten the message, because he stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her once more, his emotional barriers being visibly erected as he scrutinized her, attempting to block her out. She wasn't about to let him. She allowed her eyes to speak for her, pleading and begging him not to go; beseeching him to remain with her this night, to hold her while she slept, to keep her doubts and fears at bay just as he kept her enemies at bay in the fields of Spira; that if he stayed, maybe she could do the same for him. His features slackened, the stern expression that was his natural appearance vanishing, the creases that marked his age and pain softening, making him appear so much more like his younger self that she remembered fondly from her childhood.  
  
She still had an iron grip on his sleeve, and with a reassuring look, she tugged on it, pulling him towards her. When the gap between them finally closed, she released his sleeve, and grabbed him in a loving embrace, hugging her arms around his chest, simply because she wasn't tall enough to reach around his shoulders. Her head came to rest on his ribcage, his arms slowly and tenderly hugging her back, one hand resting on the side of her head, holding her to his chest. She felt her eyelids closing heavily as she found solace in his embrace, the rhythmic beating of his heart soothing her with its unnaturally slow tempo.  
  
Still clutching him fiercely, she began to back towards her bed, dragging him along with her, obviously having his consent; otherwise his large body would have been completely unmovable, becoming the solid wall he usually was when in battle: unmoving, unyielding, and completely protective of the others.  
  
When the back of her legs bumped the side of the bed, she finally released her hold on the noble warrior, sitting on the edge as he removed his coat and his sunglasses, setting them on the nightstand, resting his large katana against the same nightstand shortly thereafter, where it was easily accessible should the need for it arise.  
  
As Yuna lifted her legs onto the mattress, sliding further down it to make room for Sir Auron, she grabbed his hands and led him onto the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. She waited for him to get comfortable, as he lay down on his side, tucking one end of the only pillow beneath his head, angling it sharply downward so as to share it, before she finally slid into the recess he had made for her. As she tucked in snugly, pressing her body against his, her diminutive size a perfect fit within his muscular arms and chest, she allowed her head to fall onto the other half of the pillow, her breathing finding a rhythm with the slow rise and fall of his chest against her cheek. She felt the warmth he radiated wash over her, felt her eyelids grow heavy so that she could no longer hold them open, warm thoughts of feeling safe and protected dragging her further down into peaceful slumber.  
  
In her half-conscious state she heard him speak, his voice practically a whisper, the inflection conveying professionalism in addition to concern, though she didn't really hear them, determining their meaning more from the vibrations in his chest than from the actual words he spoke. "I cannot fall asleep. My duty is to watch over you."  
  
"I know." She felt her response issue forth from her mouth, recognized the voice as her own, though she did not recall constructing the statement in her mind. Nor did she fully understand what it was that she said, just unconsciously knowing that somehow it expressed her faith in him, confirmation that she would always feel safe so long as he remained her guardian, that she knew he would guide her on the right path and protect her until the very end, just as he had with her father before her. "But finally I can."  
  
As she drifted off into sleep, she was left with one final thought. She knew that when she awoke, he would be gone, almost as if he had never been there in the first place. For they both knew that by sunrise, their respective walls would once more be erected, stronger than before. They would once more become what the world expected them to be, their vulnerabilities and doubts buried once more beneath the masks they wore for the sake of the world. Sir Auron would once again be the stoic, mysterious, and determined legendary guardian of few words and even fewer emotions. In turn, she would once again be Yuna, confident and strong- willed summoner, hope of the people, bringing a Calm to Spira at the cost of her own life, always with a smile on her face as she marched toward her inevitable fate. That was how it was going to be, how it should be if they both hoped to survive the hardships and obstacles this pilgrimage would throw at them.  
  
But it was not a night that would ever be forgotten, for it was a brief respite from all of the pressures in her life that she would forever hold close to her heart. It would be a secret that belonged to the two of them alone, a secret that no one but them would ever understand anyway. A secret that bound them, reminding them both that no matter what the future may hold, they were not alone in the world. Not so long as they were there for each other.  
  
~ End ~ 


	2. In Defense of Tragedienne

In Defense of "Tragedienne/Tragedian"  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own Final Fantasy X or its characters. Squaresoft does.  
  
Note: This is not a continuation of the story, simply an essay I wrote for the reason the above title suggests. Enjoy!  
  
*****  
  
I finally finished my little Auron/Yuna vignette, and I must say I am incredibly proud of it. I think one of the greatest things about this story is that I find it incredibly revealing and lovely, and yet a little creepy at the same time. And I think that's what I had been aiming for to begin with. I also love it because of its dual nature, in that how the reader views it will totally change their perspective of me as both a person and an author. Because I happen to find that if you take it for what it is on the surface, I'll probably be thought of as a sick pervert who gets off on having an old man taking advantage of a vulnerable girl young enough to be his daughter. However, if you give me the benefit of the doubt in having some intelligence, then the story is brilliant, in a disturbing sort of way. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to call my own work brilliant, but I'm going to anyway.  
  
Basically, even I was unsettled after writing this, unsure of which of the two was more correct. I'd like to think that it's the latter, and that I'll be thought of as intelligent, but even I question the twisted way in which my brain operates sometimes, so who's to say which is correct, or whether they both are correct?  
  
When I first started writing this story it was meant to be an experiment, a means by which I got some practice writing vignettes and small scenes just for the sake of improving my writing skills, pushing my own boundaries and limitations, and letting the flow of the writing process take the story to places I might not have previously expected or planned for. That being the case, I certainly succeeded where all these aforementioned goals were concerned.  
  
Primarily my purpose for writing this piece was to hopefully bring something new to the table. I've always felt that the FFX promo shot of Yuna staring at the ruined Zanarkand on the right and Tidus gazing on the thriving Zanarkand on the left, with Auron looming large in the foreground along the seam that binds the two, one foot in each Zanarkand, was very telling of their relationships. They form a triangle. Most people who have played FFX will know that Yuna and Tidus are the couple of the game (though I always felt it was forced and unbelievable, but that's just me), and things such as that usually lead to people only seeing Yuna as compared to Tidus, or Tidus in relation to Auron, given their mentor/apprentice, father/son relationship. But I wanted to shed light on the connections between Auron and Yuna, as they represent the third relationship pair in that triangle.  
  
The story was inspired by the concept of masks. I don't remember how exactly the idea of masks came to me, perhaps because Auron's face is mostly hidden, his glasses almost serving to hide his scar, and how that was no doubt intentionally symbolic of the secrets he kept hidden, as well as his pain and inner turmoil, all buried behind his apparel. But his tragic past and secrets were something he was forced to hide, as it wouldn't serve him well on Yuna's quest or in his status as a legendary guardian to show his weaknesses and vulnerabilities.  
  
Then it occurred to me that Yuna seems to wear the same mask, her story a tragedy when you think about it, how she is basically on a journey to make a noble sacrifice and how everyone is counting on her to succeed and be strong. She can't let them down, can't show them her doubts and fears because they need the hope. And that's when I began to see the similarities between her and Auron, as well as the differences (the concepts of experience and inexperience, the faithless and the faithful, the jaded and the optimistic, etc., all of which I feel serve to drive the wedge between the two of them, in that they all underscore the things that Auron knows, but that Yuna never learns, even when she does break through his barrier - the things that he doesn't want her to see or become, a fatherly sort of protection on his part).  
  
So right from the very start, I knew that a lot of the story was going to be symbolic, that everything would have some meaning beyond what could be seen on the surface. It started with the metaphor of the masks that both Auron and Yuna wear in public, the thing that unites them. That is where the title comes from, in that they are two tragic figures, vulnerable and wounded on the inside, but forced to act as if they are not because that is what the public expects of them. Tragediennes and tragedians are stage actors known mostly for their portrayal of tragic characters, and the concept of masks brought in the whole symbolism of the white mask of tragedy (as opposed to the one of comedy) often associated with theater, opera, and ballet.  
  
That metaphor in turn led to the most important similarity between the two of them, which was the death of Yuna's father, Braska, a hero of Spira for sacrificing himself ten years previously to defeat Sin. In the game, Yuna remarks about how it took her a while to realize that Sin's death meant her father was also dead. That until Kimahri found her and took her to Besaid, she was an orphan, without a family, and I figured that if there were a time when Yuna would have decided that she also wished to become a summoner, even if it were just a thought taking root, it was then. At the moment of her father's death she was alone, without a family, the world she had known no longer existing, and therefore had already resigned herself to death. Auron was the same way. He had already lost his connection to the Yevon ministry before he undertook Braska's pilgrimage, having been excommunicated for his choices. Losing Braska and Jecht meant his only family was gone, his world now destroyed given his newfound lack of faith in the teachings of Yevon because of their hypocrisy and the betrayal that ultimately destroyed his two friends in a meaningless manner. In his hurt and anger, he too wished for death, attacking Yunalesca the deceiver and dying as a result of it. So again, Braska's death caused both Yuna and Auron to lose their families and their worlds, to be alone, and left them dead (Auron literally, Yuna metaphorically), or as I imagine Auron would see it, the walking dead. This was to be the key to the story, the open wound they both shared that bound them. I wanted to make it clear, but at the same time I wanted to allude to it in a more creative manner. So Yuna realizes their similarities because she has a mental image of the young Auron instead of herself standing on the bridge where she had been when she realized her father was dead and she was alone. They were interchangeable in that context because at that moment they were the only two people in all of Spira that didn't have the same reason to rejoice as everyone else did.  
  
However, beyond that, things started going in directions I had not quite expected. Symbolically and metaphorically, everything in this story makes some sort of sense, even if it still makes it a little unsettling to the reader. A lot of things came about subconsciously, which is an aspect of my writing style that I have come to love. But it begs the question as to whether I am far cleverer than I realize, or whether I only see the symbolism in hindsight so as to make myself seem cleverer than I really am.  
  
Take for example the whole idea of Auron's armor being his wall, the shield he hides behind, and when Yuna insists he take it off, he is suddenly vulnerable and she can read him easier. That had always been intended from the beginning. But Yuna's scandalous outfit is just as revealing (no pun intended). At first, I had put her in the scandalous clothing because I wanted to portray her sexuality, her feelings that even though she is marching towards her death, a part of her still clings to basic human needs and desires. And like her doubts and fears, these things only come out when she is alone. But I realized that subconsciously I had probably added it in for a more important reason, and I only realized this the moment she invites Auron into her room. She dons such apparel only in private, just as she only allows her vulnerabilities to come out when she is alone. However, her nightgown is see-through, and Auron is the only one who sees her wearing it, just as he is the only one that can see that she has doubts. So her apparel is instantly transparent to Auron and Auron alone, but it still provides a thin layer of protection, just as her feelings are transparent to him alone, yet he cannot see all of them. Auron, conversely, is fully guarded when the conversation begins, but by the end, Yuna has stripped him of all his protection, exposing the wounds and vulnerabilities they hid.  
  
Then there is her father. It is not coincidence that she spends a lot of time talking about her father with Auron, or that she thinks of him quite a lot. It is an important element to her character, no doubt, but it's played up in my story for a reason. It is not a fluke that her response to Auron's query about what troubles her is simply "my father". Nor is it coincidence that the man she is speaking with is her father's age and her father's closest friend, just as it is not coincidence that she seems to harbor feelings for him, or that she begs for him to comfort and protect her while she sleeps - commonly a paternal thing to do. Smelling the hints of the Elektra Complex* yet? I certainly did, though admittedly not knowingly at first, not until the moment Yuna kissed Auron.  
  
* The Elektra Complex is basically the female version of the Oedipus Complex, in which a young female has a subconscious desire to marry her father and kill/remove her mother.  
  
I think the idea of fathers was an important aspect of FFX. Yuna and Tidus had a connection through their fathers, despite being from different worlds. Both had lost their fathers at around the same age, only their feelings for them were different. Tidus hated his father, while Yuna loved hers, enough to follow in his footsteps, perhaps as a means of connecting with the father she had lost and not really known; though I also tend to think she had certain unconscious issues with him for orphaning her to save the world, issues that are not brought up within the context of the game. Then there's Auron, the critical link between all of them, as he is the only surviving member of the group consisting of himself, Tidus' father, and Yuna's father, and therefore the only one who knows what became of them. Not to mention he serves as Tidus' foster father as a promise to Jecht, and comes back to watch over Yuna on her pilgrimage, as part of his promise to Braska. So I think that Yuna could easily see Auron as a father figure, but also as the sole connection to her father, as Auron knew him better than anyone else. She is seeing her father in Auron, and is acting on it in a very Freudian manner, whether she realizes it or not.  
  
Then there's the infamous creepy yet beautiful make-out scene. I must admit, the symbolism here was completely sub-conscious on my part, especially seeing as how it was never meant to happen. They were meant to kiss, but it was supposed to be something chaste, something healing. But as most authors know, characters tend to have a habit of doing things you hadn't planned for. And the passion that erupted was a result of that, especially since the writing came out on its own naturally and quickly, waking me at three in the morning to jot it down, the underlying Elektra Complex subconsciously guiding me towards an ending I hadn't planned on. So sure was I of what naturally flowed from my mind that very little of this particular scene has changed since the first draft, save for the occasional adjective here and there.  
  
But the symbolism is there in spades if you can see it. Auron's hands go under Yuna's nightgown, getting through her last barrier of protection; their tongues dance, symbolic of verbal sparring and sharing of information in a very intimate manner. And even though she initiates the kiss, he is the one that takes control. It juxtaposes their differences, he being experienced, she being inexperienced, just as they are on the pilgrimage. He knows what is ahead, what's coming; she does not, she can only react to what happens. But they do not have sex, meaning neither one penetrates beyond the surface, neither one gets inside the other (yeah, kind of sick, but there it is). Their respective walls still keep their roots, so that they can be rebuilt stronger the next day.  
  
I feel it important to bring up the idea of necrophilia, wherein a person has certain sexual fetishes involving dead people. In the case of this story, this was certainly not anything that was either consciously or subconsciously added in. There should be no hints that I was alluding to this at all, though if there are, it was completely unintentional and accidental (or something your sick mind put there). Granted, my sick mind is here explaining away something that isn't supposed to be in this story, so I guess I shouldn't cast stones. I suppose I felt the need to bring the subject up because I can see where it might be construed given that Auron is, for all intents and purposes, dead. However, I defend against necrophilia having anything to do with Yuna's frame of mind since Yuna is oblivious to the fact that Auron is dead, though I do make several allusions to the fact that she feels that there is something different or unnatural about him (his unnaturally slow beating heart, "seemed he still lived", Auron and Tidus' mystical connection in that both of them don't really exist in a certain realistic sense, Kimahri fulfilling the wish of a dead man, etc.). However, none of those things have anything to do with her feelings for him, so the idea of necrophilia should never come into play in regards to her romantic or physical yearnings for the man.  
  
The inclusion of Kimahri at the beginning was also intentional. He is the other connection between Yuna and Auron besides Yuna's father. Yuna is Kimahri's redemption; just as preventing her death by changing the outcome of the battle with Sin is part of Auron's, the moment she frees the world of Sin permanently becoming the moment which he finally allows himself to be sent to the Farplane, symbolically passing the reigns of Spira over to her, the death of the ways of old and the beginning of the new. Kimahri became Yuna's protector only because he happened to cross paths with a dying Auron just outside of Bevelle ten years before. The two of them shared a bond, both disgraced by their respective worlds. Both were in need of some sort of redemption. And both are the same in many respects: strong and silent, large and honorable, loyal to a fault. I always felt their relationship, unspoken and unknown until the very end, was very touching, Kimahri being the only one Auron goes out of his way to acknowledge (in a non-verbal manner, naturally) just before he allows himself to be sent to the Farplane. But I think the silent aspect of their personalities is also important, and certainly why I made a note of that in the story, because what is never spoken aloud in the game is the fact that Kimahri has known the entire time that Auron was dead and unsent, yet he never reveals this fact to anyone.  
  
So as you can see, there are many aspects of symbolism and deeper meaning that I included throughout the story, whether consciously or unconsciously. My hope was that readers would get that impression (if I ever allow anyone to read it, that is!), and not think that I was simply getting my jollies by writing this story just so I could imagine what it would be like to have two of my favorite characters hook up. Truth be told, while Auron is my favorite character, Yuna is actually one of my least favorite characters in the game, right behind Tidus and Rikku. Which I find makes it that much more interesting that I wrote the story from Yuna's point of view first, with the intention of writing Auron's later (though I eventually opted not to). You'd think it would have been the other way around.  
  
So in conclusion, having left you with my defense of my story and breaking it down symbolically, I leave it to you to decide: Disturbingly brilliant or shamefully disgusting? 


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